Around The World In (More Than) 80 Days
by Vocabelle8aph
Summary: One Prussian boy. One hot air balloon. One epic adventure. witness the bromance of the century, and a decidedly less impressive romance, as one boy attempts to travel the world in 80 days (or maybe a few more, depending on how he feels). pruHun and SpainxFem!Romano and the BTT
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is what happens when I'm bored, ill and too lazy to revise for exams. Because its a bit random, I might end up updating it less than my other stories. Let me know in a review if you have a particular character who's country you want Gilbert to visit (he will meet them there). I already have a few planned~! :3**  
**I don't own hetalia and this is AU.**

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The stocky German skidded down the gleaming white polished floors in desperate pursuit of an extremely dangerous man, who just happened to be his older brother.

_Mein gott, if he reaches the garden..._

He could hear manic, and rather wheezy laughter ahead of him; confirming his brother's location. Knocking a maid to the floor, he called out in anger and desperation.

"You can't do this, bruder! You're a member of the Beilschmidt family." He paused, his mouth a gaping hole as he sucked in a deep breath.

"Beilschmidts don't just fly off in some- ugh, hot air balloon!"

"No use saying zhat now, Luddy. Arrangements have been made! Keseseses~!"

The albino pushed open the delicately patterned glass doors so they got the outside walls of the manor house. Not looking back to his pursuer, he swiftly marched towards where he left his new vehicle, slap bang in the middle of his brother's garden party.

He smirked to himself, reflecting on his wit and general awesomeness. He was finally getting out of that tedious house, away from his tedious life. Plus, he always wanted to see the world. It was there, right outside his window, always in sight but always unreachable.

By the time he'd finished loading the hot air balloon up with supplies (beer and wurst, mostly), his brother had caught up with him and, after calming the guests seated neatly in the gazebo, confronted his little brother.

Ludwig placed a hand on his head.

"Gilbert, you can't travel the world in eighty days."

"No, YOU can't travel the world in eighty days!" He retorted, giving his brother increasingly less attention; choosing to offer a shaggy rope the majority of his concentration.

He hopped into the unstable aircraft and watched the red sphere inflate above him.

"Please. This is my last warning. Don't do something this... embarrassing." The blonde pleaded, a slightly sad look evident in his sapphire eyes.

For a moment, Gilbert felt awful. He would be leaving his little brother all alone. Although he wasn't exactly little; Ludwig had grown taller and far more muscular than his older brother. In fact, he probably would be better off without his troublesome sibling getting in the way of his work and social life. Gilbert gave Ludwig a final look before deciding that he couldn't leave his brother with nothing but memories and this cold, lonely manor house.

He could give him a promise.

Gilbert recalled many years ago, when their family had been visiting Italy, the little German boy had forged a close bond (you might even say romance) with a girl that worked at their host's house. Since then, whenever he was sad and thought no one was looking, he hugged the push broom she gave him as a souvenir.

Well, Gilbert was planning on stopping in Italy, so why not...

The balloon ascended slowly and unsteadily off the neatly clipped lawn, the people at the party and Ludwig growing more distant every second. The albino boy shouted down;

"Luddy, I promise I'll find your sweetheart and bring her back to you! So wait up for me okay?"

He looked at his brother's bewildered and concerned face, violent winds circling around him as he looked directly above him.

"See you in eighty days!" He waved, noticing the guests for the first time and noting their disgusted faces with glee.

He was going to leave those stuck-up, pampered rich pricks a little present too.

He opened his mouth to taste the bracing air and prepared to shout at he top of his voice.

"I'M IN A BALLOON, MOTHER FUCKEEeeers...!"

His voice drowned out as she screeched the final insult. He was too high up to make out anything clearly, but he thought he saw an old woman faint off her chair.

* * *

**Translations  
Mein gott- my god  
Bruder- brother**


	2. Chapter 2- What Not to Do In Austria

**A/N: it's taken me way too long to update this. I had the biggest case of writer's block ever and I'm still not really over it... *sigh* and this turned out pretty darn weird... I don't own hetalia and this is purely AU**

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The weather was fine, the outdoor breeze felt exhilarating and Gilbert had enough beer to last him the rest of the week. If it was up to him, he would have liked to have enough beer to last him his entire trip, but alas, gravity is a cruel bitch and too much weight would pull him down.

Gilbert didn't think he'd had enough of the bitter sweet nectar to get him drunk, but the fact that he was flying low enough to wave at people through their windows proved that, in actual fact, he had.

He was in Austria. He thought. Either that, or South America, and he had an inkling it was the former; being that he hadn't yet caught sight of any skimpily dressed carnival girls. He hung his arms out of the large basket, slopping his bottled drink down onto the streets below, much to the disgust of a passing man. He really wished he was in a carnival, instead of here in this cutesy little decorative village, where everyone knew each others names and offered baked goods to the neighbours.

If Gilbert hadn't been so drunk and hung up on his own petty problems, he may have noticed the shouts and taunts from the village folk. They were more than a little angry at the chaos he had caused from flying so close to the ground; some had even bought torches and pitchforks with them. True story, bro. And maybe he would have noticed a window swing open and a blonde man emerge with a rather large, lethal looking gun in hand.

"Stay out of this village- next time I see your face here I'll kill you!"

Gilbert's hazy red eyes widened in complete and utter horror, as he saw the riffle point in his direction.

"Holy crap!" He screamed (effeminately) before yanking down hard on a lever that blasted hot air into the balloon. He began to rise, although extremely slowly.

He locked eyes with the militant, noticing how his finger was dangerously close to pulling the trigger; he intended on blasting the poor Prussian out of the sky if he showed no sign of retreat.

"Uh... nice town you've got here... very pretty..."

Gilbert felt like an idiot for starting a conversation with the man who may or may not kill him, but he wasn't going to reach the clouds any time soon, and the tension was killing him.

"Shut up, and get out of my town."

_No more talking, then._

* * *

Collapsing in his whicker basket, the boy felt extremely thankful for leaving the town with his life. He'd never been in a life threatening situation before, and he'd never felt so alive! This was what he left his home for; to experience anything and everything the world could possibly throw at him.

Chuckling and sighing slightly, he pulled himself up to see... _a castle?_ It looked pretty damn awesome, kind of like a fairy tale palace, pure white, resting atop a hill, high above the village. It was a shame he had to leave... or did he? He felt sure no one would mind him just dropping by. He'd seen carriages making their way towards that part of the town from where he sat in his balloon, earlier that day. He could sneak in with all the guests.

"Keseseses, I am awesome!" He thought to himself, as he flew forward towards the decorative castle.

* * *

The servants entrance was small and insignificant compared to the soft, gold decorations of the wide main entrance. A doorman had been assigned to the task of checking the guest list, much to Gilbert's dismay. They were sneaky, those Austrians. He would never have thought to put such and effective scheme as a 'guest list' in place. Although, he wouldn't have been particularly picky about who actually came to his party. He found common people to be far more fun that his brother's elite associates. None of them minded it when he downed a whole barrel of beer in one.

Just as he made his way up a rather steep, thin stone stairwell, he found himself knocked back down it, onto the cold, hard floor below.

"What zhe hell...?" The Prussian grumbled under his breath, head pounding and limbs aching. He felt slightly heavier than usual, and was finding it extremely hard to sit up. This was odd. He was a fit guy, he worked out; when did he become so out of shape that he couldn't even sit up? It was probably that damn balloon, stopping him from getting a decent amount of exercise.

Apparently, the confused albino had voiced all of these thoughts aloud; as a brown haired girl retorted cockily.

"Pfft... as if you work out! I'm telling you, I've felt better muscles than... those."

She sat on top of him and leaned down, their faces dangerously close as she studied him. As she spoke, the Prussian detected an accent that he didn't quite recognise; it was more lively and easy going than the voices of the townsfolk. He kind of liked it.

"Uh... who are you?"

The girl quickly and suddenly snapped to her senses, rushing and stumbling to get off Gilbert's lap. Not that he minded her being there. She was slight, but firm in her stance with luscious, thick brunette hair that almost reached her waist. And that dress- such a vivid blue and it hugged her shape perfectly. Of course he didn't mind.

"Ahem" she coughed, adopting a proud stance and haughty expression to match.

"I am Elizabeta Héderváry- uh, I mean, I am Countess Elizabeta Héderváry!"

Well, she certainly looked wealthy with that ball gown, but Gilbert was a little thrown by her shaky introduction. After giving it minimal thought, he shrugged it off, figuring it to be a quirk of being a wealthy young lady. He wouldn't know- he left Ludwig to do all the terribly tedious socialising, refusing to 'court' any girl who didn't think it was proper practise to use the phrases: 'awesome', 'rack' or 'Bros over Hoes' in public.

"Awesome. Zhen I'll call you Liz."

Gilbert was already half way up the stairs when he called back to her.

"Aren't you coming?"

Liz looked a little taken aback, but that was to be expected, Gilbert was an unpredictable guy, a wildcard, he could only imagine how crazy sexy she thought he was at that moment.

Not showing any sign of moving back into the party, the white haired boy grabbed her wrist and yanked her up the stairs, finding cooperation on her part minimal. She would be his date to the ball whether she liked it or not.

* * *

Although Gilbert had desperately wanted to get away from high society, he was thoroughly enjoying the Arch Duke Edelstein's soirée. They had those tiny shrimps he liked; and as far as Gilbert was concerned, any place with tiny shrimp was a place worth being. Well, that was his life motto, anyway. He shoved the seafood towards Liz, only to see her already stuffing her face with various pastries and overly decorative cakes. You'd have thought she'd never eaten in her life! Her large green eyes gazed at him curiously, jaw mashing mechanically; a few crumbs falling to the side of her cheek.

"Wow... I've never seen a noblewoman eat so much before..."

This countess was turning out to be quite unexpected. He'd at least have her to turn to if all the other fancy pants nobles turned out to be douchebags.

A fist met Gilbert's face, poetic justice for how much of a tool he has been so far in this story. *Sorry about that.* He looked up to see the gluttonous Noblewoman pouting angrily.

"That's no way to speak to a lady!" The scorned brunette turned away from him towards the Buffett, continuing her quest of rapidly devouring every piece of food in sight. Gilbert sighed. He may as well meet some of the other rich weirdos with their fancy make up and frilly outfits (the sad thing is, he was talking about the dudes.)

Violins purred in an elegant soprano that reminded Gilbert of his brother back home. He would give anything just to be able to bro fist his homie one more time, even though Ludwig hated it when his older brother called him wildly inappropriate nicknames, that by all counts should not be in existence during this early period of history.

"You seem transfixed by the piece. I usually use Chopin to express _anger_, but these fools know nothing of music, so anything goes."

Leaning on the staircase next to Gilbert was a slim purple eyed man, with brown hair slicked stylishly back, wearing spectacles and a royal purple jacket that screamed 'camp'; although he pulled it off well. He held a rounded glass containing a luxuriously dark coloured wine.

"I'm the Arch Duke Röderich Edelstein. And you might be?"

_Quick, think of a name Gilbert, a nice normal name...  
_  
Wait! That was it! He could use one of the names from the guest list and then get the hell out of there, after all, I didn't bode well to have an encounter with the host of the party; he had more than enough authority to throw Gilbert out on his face. Copies of the document were offered to the party goers in order for them to know whose arses they were obliged to kiss during this delightful could work in his favour...

The Prussian peeked a look at the list inside his pocket, trying to make it look extremely casual.

"I am... Gupta Muhammad Hassan."

_Dammit! _

The Austrian eyed him suspiciously, his beauty spot raising with his cheeks as he squinted his eyes in confusion. Luck seemed to be on Gilbert's side, as the Duke had drunk a little too much of his ridiculously expensive wine to really notice how different the albino was to the mysterious Egyptian man.

"You seem to have paled a bit since I last saw you... But that's none of my concern. Excellent party. Truly lovely; the lieutenant of the Swiss army even came!"

He swung an elegant, long finger towards a robust looking young man with shoulder length blonde hair, gesturing awkwardly as he talked to a young girl. Gilbert recognised him as the man that nearly shot him out of the sky.

He gulped. This wasn't looking good, he needed to leave immediately if he wanted to escape with his life. Which he really, desperately wanted to do.

"Ah, I must be leaving now, I came here with the countess and she's ill-suited to late night events..."

He gestured to the Buffett, where said countess was wrapping chunks of cheese in white cloth, while also managing to shove a bread roll in her mouth.

_What the hell?_

Beside him, a wine glass crashed against the marble floor, leaving an ugly red stain that seemed unnervingly omen-like. Pure disgust mixed with ever so slight shock clouded over the Arch Duke's eyes.

"That's not a countess... That's my hand-maid! Seize her! Seize them both!"

Nearby, a certain Swiss Army official cocked his gun after setting eyes on a familiar face.

"I told you to stay out of this town!"

There was only one thing the Prussian could say before legging it to the 'countess';

_"Scheiße!"_

* * *

_**Translations (German)  
Scheiße- shit**_

**A/N: I intended Röderich's castle to be the 'Hohensalzburg Castle', but you can use your imaginations, I don't mind! ;) this is quite a long one (it felt long to write). please review~! Ciao!**


	3. Chapter 3- Weapon of Choice

**A/N: I'm sorry this took forever! Life caught up to me and stuff. I sorta tried to go a little tiny bit serious at the beginning in Liz's part, but this is still a comedy, I swear! So don't kill me if it turns out rubbish... Well I don't own hetalia or its characters. I got nothing. Nothing at all.**

Warning! Action sequences ahead!

* * *

_'He had had it for me from the start'_, she thought. From the moment she first bowed her head to him, he'd known that one day, somehow, he would have to get rid of her. It wasn't that she was rude or ugly or unskilled, it was because she was a nobody. The kind of nameless street-dweller that got lucky one day when an aristocrat happened to need a new servant girl. After that, she was passed around from nobleman to nobleman, who all tired of her in due time. Sometimes it took longer. Sometimes it went on until one of them tried to get into her pants, and she was forced to kick them where the sun don't shine.

That was the story of her life and she was foolish to think she could get any more from the world than what she had been given. So that evening, amidst the swirling ball gowns and wine-induced frivolities of intoxicated gentlemen, she donned a 'borrowed' dress of blue satin and attempted to slip away into the night.

That _was_ the plan.

She hadn't counted on meeting Gilbert, and she'd never met someone so goddamned self centred and impulsive before. He didn't ask questions and he took life at his own pace (which actually happened to be quite fast).

When all eyes were on her in the ballroom, she didn't feel like life screwed her over, oh no, she felt like god had just given her a 'get out of jail free' card. All she had to do was look at the albino Lordling's crimson eyes and know that there was a chance that she could escape the dull, unfulfilling life she was living and actually make something of herself.

She smirked to herself. _Things are going to get interesting from here on out._

* * *

As you might have expected from our less than gallant hero, upon sensing the danger of the situation, Gilbert did everything in his power to get the hell out of the castle and as far away from it as his tiny hot air balloon would allow. His black boots skidded repeatedly on the marble floor, causing him to send an ice sculpture of the Austrian Duke crashing to the ground as he bounded into it. In any other situation he would have laughed, but that was a near impossible feat for the gasping Prussian, who was finding it difficult to breathe and run at the same time. He needs to get out more. Seriously.

"When I catch you, I'm going to shoot you so full of holes I'll be able to get a clear shot of your lady friend through your stomach!"

"Vhat zhe hell!?" He didn't think he'd ever heard such a specific and psychopathic death threat before. This Lieutenant was turning out to be even more trigger happy than before. Passing the Hungarian girl, he grabbed her thin wrist and pulled her along with him. Why you ask? Well Gilbert felt partly responsible for getting her involved. After all, he did kinda reveal her secret and ruined her escape. He should be feeling more than 'partly' responsibly for it all, but with this narcissist, that's the best you're gonna get.

"Bruder is always telling me to own up to my mistakes, so Liz, you're going to be coming with me! Keseseses..."

He didn't hear any objections from the suddenly quiet servant girl, so the two pressed on towards the entrance of the establishment.

"Wait! I know a way thought the kitchens that'll throw them off!"

Their roles reversed as Elizabeta took the lead and pulled Gilbert behind her. Silence followed them as they made a sharp left turn down a set of steep, black tiled stairs down into what Gil presumed was the kitchens.

A tidal wave of high pitched chatter and 'Oh my's clouded through the room, spreading through it as rapidly as they did. Clearly Liz knew this place better than its owners; no one had followed them down that staircase. Things were beginning to feel safe again. They slowed their pace.

"... yes... white hair? Over there..."

The albino once again cursed the gods for his striking clash of snow white hair and crimson eyes that, although made him look insanely attractive, also made him easy to spot in a crowd. There was really no chance of anyone mistaking him for someone else, and if these guard caught him he didn't imagine they would be open to a little chatting or bribery. One of them had a thick brown moustache and an angry look in his eyes. He drew a ridiculously large sword from where it hung at his side and ran towards the duo.

"I'll hold him off! You stop the other one from telling the Duke where we are!" he heard Liz shout towards him.  
It seemed like a good plan but could Elizabeta handle herself? No- he had to trust her on this one. Plus, he knew from experience that she packed a mean punch.

* * *

The weedy guard was surprisingly fast footed, and was able to dive under tree branches and dodge roots in the garden outside. He seemed fast, but Gilbert waged he was probably less than useless in a physical fight. On the other hand, as a lord, Gilbert been trained in sword mastery and physical fighting by his master of arms, Old man Fritz. Where most men were trained to fire a pistol and relied on their aim to defend themselves, Gilbert believed that swords were more classy and on a whole, more likely to pick up girls.

He made a dive for the boy, wrestling him to the ground until he heard the click of metal on metal and his sword was removed. Gilbert gave a smirk. He was lucky Arch Duke Edelstein also understood the benefit of swords and felt the need to arm his guards with blades. 'Job done' he thought, wondering if Liz had kicked anyone's butt yet.

* * *

_Don't panic. Don't panic. It's okay, don't panic. Come on Liz! He has a dangerous looking sword, but it's nothing you can't handle...  
_  
What exactly lead Lord Gilbert Beilschmidt to think a hand maid like Elizabeta Héderváry could best an armed and trained guard in a fight, no one will know. She didn't even know exactly why she thought she'd be okay. Sure, she had knocked out a few guys in her time, but how could she get close enough to beat up this man without getting beheaded first. She really didn't want to lose her head. Or any other part of her body for that matter.

"Come here girly! I'll be gentle... I promise..."

Talk about creepy! This dude was definitely class A super villain material. All he needed was a white cat and some kind of nuclear death weapon to complete the look.

Wasting no more time, the racially stereotypical European military man charged towards her. A split second decision caused her to pick up the nearest item for self defence: a frying pan.

She threw all her strength into one swing that bounded into his right cheek. She'd never felt more good about herself than when she felt his molars crumbling against the cooking utensil.

She gave the pan a swirl in the air and caught it skilfully.

"I could get used to this..." she grinned cockily. This was definitely going to be one hell of a trip, and if she had any sanity left, she would refuse Gilbert's offer of travelling and settle down in the nearest village to a life of apple pie and embroidery. Unfortunately, after revelling in her bludgeoning of the (not so) innocent guard, Elizaveta Héderváry had very little sanity left to boast of.


	4. Chapter 4- Cabin Fever

**A/N: *phew* life's been stressful for a change and I get the feeling it's going to stay that way for a while. Anyway, expect a little more waiting time between chapters but they'll still be uploaded and written when I have time. Plus I'm ill, so this may not be 100% well written. Gomenasai. *bows* this is totes AU and I do not now, nor will I ever, own hetalia. **

* * *

Elizabeta looked distastefully at the now stale sack of cheese and other richly exquisite party foods she had picked up at the ball. The heels of her rather expensive 'borrowed' shoes pressed hard against the over-sized whicker basket as she attempted to prevent herself from gagging. A few tears pierced the corners of her eyes, a product of her fierce concentration and relentless will power that she summoned up to prevent the unpreventable.

Amidst her gagging and unmasked cussing, she noticed Gilbert smirking down at her from where he stood in the basket. "It's beyond hilarious to see you so helpless! Keseseses... I really am far more awesome that you!"

_What?_ Could he really be taking that much pleasure from watching his travelling companion (for the foreseeable future) reduced to a pale mess on the balloon's floor. As she had suspected from the first moment she had laid eyes on him; this man, Gilbert Beilschmidt, was a complete and utter douche.

Elizabeta forced her jelly like legs to stop trembling and stand up before reaching for the hefty item that lay motionless to her left. Afraid of getting a peak over the edge of the offending aircraft, she kept her green eyes glued to the floor.

It felt almost as good as she thought it would. There was the Prussian; humming a tune to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels, totally absorbed in his surroundings. And a few breathtaking seconds later a well polished frying pen struck his pale cheek with a resounding smack.

Liz was curious as to what the gobsmacked boy would bring up first. He certainly seemed to have trouble forming a coherent sentence.

"Liz. Wh- why did you?" He shook his head, a fine mop of silver grey hair fanning out and repositioning itself as he did so. Gilbert made a move to start again.

"Why the hell did I let you take that verdammt frying pan with us!?"

It was hardly even a question. Liz was disappointed. But then again, he was a man and, hey, what would you expect?

The Prussia pointed an accusative finger and looked as though he was just about ready to give her another lecture. If it wasn't a rant about her "irrational" fear of heights, it was about her incorrect map reading skills and sometimes the rants steered into a rather sexist direction that she was more than just a bit uncomfortable with. Well, perhaps 'uncomfortable' was a bit of an understatement. I mean, do you really think this chick wouldn't have a thing or two to say about equal rights?

To the Hungarian's surprise, Gil had found an equally important distraction that delayed the scalding.

"We're here Liz! Romania!" The albino's deft hands loosened the rope and adjusted levers for their decent into the country that he was convinced harboured vampires. Liz didn't believe that for a second. They had been travelling for what felt like a month, and had laid anchor in more than a few intimidating land masses with names abundant of vowels and 'z's. She was tired and sick and wanted more than anything to reach the next stop on the map that had a decent bed, bath and pub. She did not have the patience or time for vampires.

To his delight, Gilbert was not shunned by the townsfolk of Romania as he had been in Austria. In fact, he had so many respectful stares his way that his ego received another unnecessary boost.

He noticed Liz's rosy complexion returning to her cheeks and felt all the better for it. It had been a hard few weeks and he'd tried his best to be the ideal travelling companion, but her unreasonably long winded intolerance of his air craft had proved too potent for his leniency.

* * *

The streets of the Transylvanian city were dark and had a few too many rats for his liking but hey, what can you do? Gilbert put his hands in his pockets and gestured for Liz to hold onto his arm, a notion he had grown accustomed to seeing as a boy. Not many of the lessons he learnt stayed in his mind, but he knew the appropriate way to escort a lady. He'd just never had occasion to do it before.

"No way. If you think I'm touching that, you really haven't been paying attention these last few days have you?"

"Come on Liz!" He whined, making puppy dog eyes at her. "This place is busy and it would be a pain if you got lost."

The Hungarian mock punched his arm. Gil hated it when she resorted to violence. Mostly because it happened waaaay too often.

"Oh, I'm the one who's going to get lost?" She started, about to initiate what would surely be another long argument before restraining herself out of what Gilbert could only presume was embarrassment. A few dirt covered faces belonging to townsmen has turned their way and Liz started to flush. Saying nothing, she slipped her arm alongside his.

_'Oh yeah. Gilbert 1, psycho girl 0'_ he thought. Too scared to dare utter the words in front of said psycho. He liked Liz although he couldn't be sure why. All she did was hurl over the side of his precious hot air balloon and bruise his beautiful face. Did she even have any useful qualities? Well, she could handle herself in a pinch, but Gilbert decided that that would be hardly useful in a nice, quiet trip around the world. He doubted they would get into any serious trouble. At best it would be mild peril.

"Sir! You there!" a chubby bald man beckoned Gilbert towards him. He looked healthy and well fed and stood proudly outside an inn. It didn't take a genius to deduce he was the owner.

The couple slowed down and reared to their right where he stood. "I have the best cook in town working here. He makes the damn finest chowder you've ever tasted!" His attention turned to Elizabeta. "Almost as fine as you." He winked.

"Sounds awesome! what's your price?" The innkeeper pulled down on Gilbert's shoulder and raises a plum hand to his mouth as he whispered the price in his ear.

"Are you insane!? What zhe hell is so amazing about this piece of crap hotel? The pig's at my house live in better conditions than this!"

Gilbert didn't think he'd been so angry throughout the entire expedition. Which was a surprise considering someone tried to kill him. Fuming, he pulled the brunette along with him and felt thee stumble over a muddy puddle. If worse came to worse, he could get a blanket and they could sleep in the balloon but he couldn't imagine Liz consenting to that. It was almost as though she was the highborn of the two of them.

"You seem upset my friend. Is Bucharest not to your liking?" Leaning casually against a doorway stood a pale young man with red eyes that rivalled the albino's, although his hair was a smooth and thick copper colour. A long red coat, buttoned up almost to the top, hugged his body and made his curiously light skin seem even more unnatural. He wore small ruby earrings and a scaled-down top hat on the side of his head, ribbons cascading down from it. The stranger was striking to say the least, and his non-stop smirk already annoyed Gilbert. To his right, the Hungarian woman was staring intently at the man, and Gil couldn't for the life of him figure out why.

The Romanian native noticed their gaze and chuckled. "How rude of me. My name is Vladmir and I own a townhouse on the next street that may be suitable accommodation for you."

With that, Vladmir made a graceful gesture with his gloved hands toward a large side street. He began to guide Gilbert and Elizabeta to his mysterious house that the Prussian could only picture being an over sized gothic mansion. The thought of a spooky manor house complete with gargoyles made him insanely excited but he tried his best not grin as they walked down the vermin infested streets for fear of Liz finding that worthy of (another) beating.

"Oh, and we best make haste. The townspeople say that a vampire has been lurking in the shadows at night." Vlad turned those foreboding red eyes towards the travellers, head framed by a brilliantly glowing full moon and spoke with a dark chuckle.

"Your not scared, are you?"

* * *

Well how did you like the cheesiness? I had fun writing this chapter- mostly cause I've been really into Romania lately. He doesn't have an official surname so if anyone wants to suggest something, I'd be happy to give him that name! :) please review! And to my followers, I'll see you in 'supernatural defence squad'!


	5. Chapter 5- At the Mansion

**A/N: I am slowly going insane due to my inability to write a novel. Yes I'm writing a novel. Kind of... My new story will be up eventually if I can get my head together and stuff. By the way; some time has passed since the events in Austria. Liz and Gil have stopped off at a few other countries before arriving in Romania. Please enjoy the crack... and leave a review if you so wish... this is AU and I don't own hetalia.**

* * *

Only three back alleys and main streets had separated them from the humble abode of Count Vladimir Dragul. Gilbert had stumbled along the wet cobbled streets in suspense; he could only imagine what would lie before them when they arrived outside the mystery town house. From his detailed experiences of being coaxed into strangers' houses with promises of candy or warm fires, he couldn't help wondering if they were walking into a trap. I mean, the whole thing seems pretty damn suspicious if you ask me. Which you shouldn't, because the fourth wall is there for a reason. Returning to reality from the deep, dark crevices of his own subconscious, Gilbert swatted away any negative thoughts that had been planted in his mind by the author. Instead, he tried to adopt his usual 'glass half full' mentality.

Beyond the dank, dark street-mazes of Bucharest, a great open space spanned as far as the eye could see. However, the greenery and heavily shadowed forest could not be seen in front of them as a small hill rose from the ground, green and organic amongst the paved and cobbled streets that lead up to it. Atop the green mound lay a townhouse as promised, tall to the point that it looked as though it were leaning. To Gilbert, who was well versed in the field of expensive houses, it seemed like more of a manor house. Well, that was what he should have been thinking. The Prussian's relatively small brain was wholly occupied at that moment in time. The house was so gothic and scary looking, he couldn't believe it. Think of the most cliché, highly decorative, old manor house you've ever seen. Now forget it, because this house was in a whole different league. The Prussian, after allowing himself a moment to freak out over the awesomeness of the house, regained his composure. If he even had any of that stuff to begin with. "Liz" he tapped the equally dumbfounded girl on the shoulder.

"We've got to keep our wits about us in a place like this. I don't like the look of that ass-wipe Count Dracula over there." He said as he gestured to their mysteriously silent host who was strolling a few steps ahead of them. Elizabeta scoweld at him in response. "His name isn't 'Dracula', it's Vladimir" she retorted. "and if you're so worried for our safety, why are you walking around with a big smile on your face like you just got a glimpse of some girl's cleavage?"

_'Damn, she knows me too well.'_

"Ahem." The two looked up to see Count Dragul leaning against the great oak door of his abode, smirking down on them. Gilbert had been so caught up in the architecture , he hadn't noticed that their small hike uphill was over. "If you two have finished your discussion about me, you can come inside."

* * *

The interior of the mansion was even more eccentrically gothic than the exterior. Liz couldn't help feeling a little creeped out by the cold, dark decor and the haughty yet unnerving glances she occasionally got from Vladimir. In fact, the glances occurred a little more than 'occasionally' to be honest; she noticed him smiling and eyeing her up every chance he got. It wasn't exactly very comforting, feeling someone's gaze constantly on you. She couldn't help but wonder what thoughts were going through the Romanian Count's head. He could have been thinking about eating her alive, or killing them in other, unimaginably horrific ways.

Feeling the unbearable suspicion well up inside her, she paused to confer with Gilbert who was busy poking a rather expensive looking vase. "Psst!" the intrigued boy looked down at the slightly smaller Hungarian girl, bending down so that he could hear her properly. "I don't think this was a completely sane idea after all... The Count has been looking at me a liiitttle too much..." Elizabeta got a quick response from her companion, as the room echoed with his loud, screeching laughter. How she hated that laugh...

"Keseseseseses! That's hilarious, Liz! You think that guy is _attracted_ to you?" Gilbert paused for breath before continuing to be a prick. "I mean, he's way out of your league. That guy's really handsome. Even the awesome me can admit that! He's got that whole dark prince charming thing going on. And look at that ass-"

Liz's frying pan materialised from thin air, a trick she'd learnt after just weeks of being around the Prussian idiot. Naturally, she put it to good use by smacking his face in with it. "Okay, okay: I get it! I'll leave you and your creepy-ass boyfriend be!" Fuming (and rightly so), the brunette stomped away from the albino leaving him confused and extremely ticked off. She wasn't exactly sure where she was going, but at that moment she didn't care; any room without Gilbert would suffice. It felt like all those weeks of tolerating his ADHD , obnoxious behaviour had finally caught up with her. How could she have spent days on end with him in a tiny, cramped hot air balloon? She was almost impressed.

* * *

An elaborate yet somewhat decayed marble staircase stood before her; starting at her feet and rising up to the next story. Midway up, it split, offering two directions: the East wing or the West wing. At least, that's what Liz could cipher from the Latin carvings on the marble wall that looked cracked and grey next to the newly carved alabaster statues that stood majestically next to them. Tentatively, Liz raised her right foot onto the first highly polished step, feeling a little nervous. The guilt of exploring someone else's home made her a little wobbly and she found herself stumbling over her own feet. That particular sensation was not new to her; as a young girl she often found herself sneaking into the homes of the more fortunate in hope of a warm fire or at least an escape from the rain. She found herself at the point where the stairs split, with no inkling as to which direction would offer her a more discreet hiding place. It was a 50-50 gamble, how hard could it be? But then again, Elizabeta had always had rotten luck. Growing impatient and suspecting that Gilbert would soon catch up to her (if he was even looking for her in the first place), she turned on her heels and headed to the right. She could see that the hallway she had chosen belonged to the West Wing, and before her, bathed in darkness and barely visible, lay the faint shapes of furniture, a chase longue and what looked like a harp, covered in white sheets. Liz's Spidey senses were tingling. Like crazy. She had to get a look...

"Miss Elizabeta?" A woman's voice questioned. She turned quickly, trying not to look too much like a child who had been caught stealing cookies from the kitchen. "yes?" she replied.

"My name is Dorina. I am a handmaid in the service of the Count. He asked me to show you to your room." Liz slowly nodded and began navigating the steps. Dorina looked unusually pale. Almost as pale as Vladimir himself. Her black hair was striking in comparison and the neat braid it was tide back in made her look like a porcelain doll. Dorina's skirts swirled and fanned out as she led the brunette across the hall to the East Wing. The maid turned to her suddenly, remembering something. "And one more thing. Whilst you are living under this roof, you are _never_ to go in the West Wing." She gave a curt nod, and the two continued on their way.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry that took so long! We had a heat wave and I died. Next chapter is where it's all going down! I've got big plans. I wanted to put some of it in this chapter but I ran out of room. Sorry. So please, please stick around for chapter six, 'cause it'll be worth it; we might even find out what Gilbert's been getting up to in the mansion... Please review!**


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